


Everyone's A Winner

by thelookyouredoingthelookagain



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU: Established Relationship, Competitive Streak, Explicit Sexual Content, Games, Light Bondage, M/M, PWP, Silly, Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-01 05:32:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2761436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelookyouredoingthelookagain/pseuds/thelookyouredoingthelookagain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock's competitive streak takes his and John's sex games to a whole new level.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just For Fun

**Author's Note:**

> All works here were produced by two friends in the fandom. One writes as SH and one as John, and we edit together. Our characters are based on the BBC's _Sherlock_ , though we don't mind playing a little loosely with canon and the occasional AU. We have whims and like to follow them. While we like to torture our boys with constant misunderstandings, we know they belong together and we always see to that.
> 
> All posted works are complete, and we hope there will be something for everyone. Please take a look at our other works. Just a note, though, there's pretty much always going to be smut. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst, but always smut. We can't help it: that's just the way we are.
> 
> We plan to add new work each weekend, so please subscribe.
> 
> We also really appreciate the kudos and comments --they mean so much.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

It was a nice enough day for John to be walking home, which gave him time to think about the little stop he'd made on the way. John had been picking up some extra hours earlier in the week and they had been working on a case, so they weren't getting much time together. Now that the case was over, John was taking a long weekend and he had every intention of making the most of it. He glanced down at the shopping bag and grinned. He hoped Sherlock was going to like this -- he didn't see how he couldn't since it would involve having sex. Ever since the first time they did it together, the two of them had been a bit insatiable. 

He called out for Sherlock when he walked in, hanging his coat up and taking the game out of the bag. "Sherlock, come see what I bought!"  

Sherlock had been lying around doing nothing, which he enjoyed for the first hour of the day and hated for the rest. It was always like this once a case was solved -- he could get a good sleep and relax a bit and then immediately he became bored. When he heard John, he jumped. At least now he'd have an audience for his pouting.

"Hey," John said, tapping his forehead as he passed by to make tea. "Look what I got -- on the table there," he said, pointing to the edge of the coffee table where he'd set the dice. 

Sherlock walked over and sat down on his chair. "Dice," Sherlock said, uninterested. "Have you been gambling? Do you have a gambling problem? Is this a new case? Are the dice a clue?" He turned and looked over at John. "Are you bringing tea? I'm bored, John, can you tell?"

"Look at the dice more closely, Mr. Observant," John called back. He took their mugs down and leaned against the counter as he waited for the water to boil. 

Sherlock picked them up and turned them in his fingers. One had different parts on each side and the other had verbs like suck, lick, and rub. Sherlock raised one of his eyebrows. "What's this all about then?" he asked.

"I thought we could play a game," John said, coming in with their tea. "Interested?" 

"I don't think that's a good idea, John," Sherlock said, taking his tea and putting his feet up.

"What? Why not?" John asked, tilting his head. 

"Well, as you know, you are a very poor loser. I'm afraid when I win this so-called game, you will start pouting and we both know pouting is a very unattractive feature in a person," Sherlock said, smiling.

John grinned and shook his head. "Sorry, love, I think you're thinking about yourself again." John took a sip of tea and sat up. "It's just a game. Just for fun," he smiled. "Are you scared?" 

"No. Do I look scared? I'm not scared. Why? Are you scared? Besides, I personally think winning is fun. Fine, I'll play but I'm just saying -- don't fuss when you're a great big loser," Sherlock said. "What do I have to do?"

"We just take turns rolling the dice and we do what they say while the little hour glass counts down a minute. The first one that breaks loses," John explained. He put his mug down and raised his brows, smiling.

"And when you say 'breaks' -- what precisely do you mean?"

"Can't take the teasing anymore and needs to get off. In the end that's hardly a tragedy, but you know, it's the principle," he smiled.

"Fine, I'm in," Sherlock said. He finished his tea and stood up. "I'm going into the other room to prepare. I'll be back in an hour."

"An hour? What are you doing? I thought we'd do it now," John said, watching him walking away.

"You lose," Sherlock said. "I was teasing and you broke." He came back into the sitting room.

"Breaking means I was so overwhelmed with desire that I just had to take you," John said. "Clearly not the case." He stuck out his tongue and grinned. He rolled the dice and leaned over to read what he got. "Kiss and belly," he said. He moved onto his knees and lifted Sherlock's shirt. He flipped the timer and pressed soft kisses on his belly, some longer than others as he moved to new spots. When the sand emptied, he pulled away and moved into his seat again. "Your turn."

Sherlock lifted his hand to rest in John's hair. The kissing was nice. Then it was over. Hmmm, so far this wasn't fun -- he hadn't wanted John to stop. He sat down and rolled the dice. "Rub and foot," he said, furrowing his brow. "Really?" He pushed John down on the sofa and took off one of his shoes. He turned over the timer and started rubbing John's foot. "Feel like coming yet?" he said, smiling.

John grinned. "No, but it feels nice after work," he said. He sat up and rolled the dice. "Stroke and ear." John chuckled and reached over, playing with Sherlock's ear lobe. "Well, they can't all be winners."

"Actually, I quite like that," Sherlock said, dipping his head a little like a cat, encouraging John's fingers. "I shall remember that one." When the time was up, he rolled the dice. He looked at them and then set them down on the table. He stood up and moved to the door, checking the lock. He came back and sat down. "Trousers off, please," he said.

John smiled and started unbuttoning his trousers. "What did you get, then?" John asked.

"Lick and thighs," Sherlock said, helping John and then pushing him down against the sofa. He crawled up onto him and hovered over his cock for a few minutes, exhaling, before moving to lick John's thighs. He drew a line down and then up his inner thigh before moving to the other side. Then he sucked on the soft skin. His hand squeezed John's hip. Then he sat up and said, "Your turn."

John hummed softly as warmth spread from the places Sherlock's mouth touched. But the minute was up too fast and he cursed the timer. John rolled the dice. "Suck and cock," he said. He got on his knees and helped Sherlock pulled his trousers down. And then his simply pushed his pants out of the way. "It's only a minute after all." He set the timer where he could see it and took Sherlock into his mouth, moving up and down very slowly. When the timer was up he came off with a small pop, smiling up at Sherlock. "Your turn."

"Don't you think this is kind of a stupid game," Sherlock said, his hand sneaking over to slowly stroke himself. "Why don't we just have sex? You could go back to doing that for a bit and then we could just do it? Do we really need the dice?" He was thinking about John's body and the things they'd done together.

John moved Sherlock's hand away gently and pushed the dice closer. "It's fun -- the teasing, you know?"

"Seems cruel . . . I always knew you had a cruel streak," Sherlock said. He leaned forward and rolled the dice. "Suck and cock again, go ahead -- go back to what you were doing."

"That's your roll, love. You have to do it," John grinned. "Now you get to be cruel as well."

"You will regret that comment," Sherlock said. He pulled John a little so he was sitting up properly. Sherlock slid off the sofa onto the floor and moved between John's legs. He knew John liked to watch him do this, and he was going to pull out all the stops in terms of torture. He slid both hands up the inside of John's thighs and pushed them far apart, before dipping down and sucking the tip of his cock. With one hand still pushing slightly on John's thigh, he moved the other one to hold his cock at the base and he sucked it, moving his mouth lower, taking more of it inside. He took all of it in, holding it as long as he could, before moving back up, sucking and swirling his tongue. He dropped a hand to hold John's balls as he kept sucking his cock. Then he lifted his head and said, "Don't make me stop . . . let me keep going. I will if you want." He moved his hand from John's balls to brush his fingertips over John's hole.

John panted softly as he watched the timer. "I won't let you . . . trick me into losing," he murmured. He pulled the timer so Sherlock could see it.

"Fine," Sherlock said. He sucked John's tip until the time was completely up. He dropped his hands and used one to stroke himself ever so slowly as he moved back to the sofa.

John caught his breath and rolled the dice. "Kiss and ear," he murmured. He climbed onto Sherlock's lap, leaned to the side and started kissing the shell of his ear, moving to the lobe and breathing heavily as he kissed.

"Good," Sherlock said, leaning back a bit. "I fucking love that." His use of swear words became more liberal the more aroused he got. He enjoyed the feeling of John's lips and tongue so much -- it was like a strange but sexy invasion of his body. When he felt John's body start to lean back, he knew the minute must be up but he grabbed John's arm and tried to keep him there. "It's not been a full minute . . . I've been counting in my head."

"The timer's been counting. You're free to break and ask for more," he teased, licking softly in the pauses.

"Give me the fucking dice," Sherlock said. He rolled them quickly onto the table and then snatched them into his hand before John could see them. " Come and cock," he said. "Shall I do it on my own or do you want to help?"

"That's not an option, cheater," John said grinning.

"Rub and cheek," Sherlock said. He leaned forward and started to gently stroke John's cheek. He looked at him closely. "I love you," he said softly.

John smiled back, leaning into his hand. "I love you too," he said.

Sherlock reached over with his other hand and grabbed John's, wrapping both their hands around his cock. "Show me," he whispered.

John stroked softly. "Now we're both cheating," he murmured.

"We could pretend you already rolled and got that," Sherlock said, leaning forward and kissing John's mouth softly as he continued to stroke his cheek.

"That's cheating," John murmured against his lips, kissing him harder.

"Stop then if winning's so important to you," Sherlock said, trailing his tongue across John's cheek to his ear.

John smiled and stilled his hand slowly. "I like winning."

"Roll the dice, John Watson," Sherlock said, frowning.

John took the dice and rolled them, grinning deviously. "Lick and cock," he said. He got on his knees again, held the base of Sherlock's cock, and he licked slowly from the shaft to the head over and over.

Sherlock moved his hips, pressing into John's mouth a bit. "When does the game end?" he panted impatiently. "There has to be an ending, John."

"When someone loses," John breathed against his shaft, pressing his tongue harder against his hard, heated skin.

Sherlock slipped his hand into John's hair. "Are you saying if I come right now I lose? That doesn't seem right somehow," he said, finding it hard to speak smoothly.

"Well, not so much come as decide you've had enough of this," he said, still licking. He forgot about watching the timer.

"John, please," Sherlock moaned softly, rocking his hips.

John nodded, already painfully hard himself. "Okay," he murmured, swallowing Sherlock whole and quickly.  
  
Sherlock tightened his fingers in John's hair and used his other hand to grip the sofa. His back arched up and he called out, coming down John's throat. "Fuck, John, god," he panted.

John swallowed around him, reaching down to stroke his own cock. He was harder than he'd realised; within seconds he was coming into his hand, moaning around Sherlock before pulling off and calling his name.

Sherlock pulled John towards him and kissed him hard and sloppily on his mouth. "God, John," he said, trying to get him next to him.

John shifted and sat on his lap instead, kissing him back and holding his cheeks. "I know," he said.

"We're naked on the sofa," Sherlock said, smiling.

John smiled back. "We are. And you lost," he teased, pecking Sherlock's lips. 

"You said it was all right," Sherlock said. "You cancelled the game."

"Because you broke," John said. "And you begged for the end." 

"I did no such thing," Sherlock said, his fingers randomly drawing on John's back. "What's got into you today? Why does hurting me bring you so much pleasure?"

John chuckled and rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder, holding his hips lightly. "It's just a game, goof. I still love you." 

"Whatever," Sherlock said. "What are we going to do for the rest of the evening?"

"I suppose we should have dinner at some point. Or another round," he grinned. 

"I'm not sure either of those things appeal. I don't think we should play anymore games -- your competitive streak is very upsetting."

"It doesn't have to be a proper round. It can be the bonus round," John grinned. He shifted to look at Sherlock, kissing his mouth and cheeks softly. 

"What inspired this anyway? Are you bored of how we've been doing things?" Sherlock asked, now fiddling with John's ear.

"No! I just thought it would be fun," John explained. "Didn't you think it was?" He was worried now he'd misjudged everything and forced Sherlock into something he didn't like or want. "Don't you ever think about different things we could try?"

"Of course I enjoyed every moment of it," Sherlock said. "I suppose I mostly just think about things we've already done." He pressed his mouth against John's forehead and gave it a kiss.

John smiled and held his gaze. "When do you think about it?"

"A good percentage of the time."

John's smile grew. "And what do you think about it?"

"That I like it," Sherlock said, looking at John. "I never . . . really cared about that business. But it's good. I like it. Because of you. It was only ever going to be you."

"I like it too. I think about it a lot -- more than I should, probably." John smiled and pecked his lips again. He lay on his shoulder and continued relaxing in his lap.

Sherlock stroked John's arm and relaxed against the sofa. Before all this business became part of their relationship, Sherlock had spent more time thinking about dead bodies than he spent thinking of his own. But now he was more conscious of it -- the way the muscles tensed and released, the way it was similar and was different to John's. They fell asleep together on the sofa. When Sherlock woke up, it was dark in the room. "John," he whispered.

John hummed and sat up, realising where exactly he was. "Oh . . . let's just go to bed," he said as he got up. He picked up their fallen clothes and led the way to the bedroom. When they lay down he'd hardly set the alarm before he fell asleep again.

Sherlock curled around John. This was also something new: Sherlock found himself enjoying sleep more when he was doing it next to John. It felt as intimate as sex itself. He closed his eyes and fell to a good night's sleep.

When the alarm sounded John woke with a start, getting into the shower without waking Sherlock just yet.

Sherlock shifted with John's movement, keeping his eyes closed a bit longer. When John came back into the room, still damp and wrapped in a towel, Sherlock turned over and lifted the cover. "Come get in here with me, please," he said quietly.

"I have to go to work, love." John leaned down and kissed his head. "I should have bet the loser makes breakfast," he teased.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "The first thing you say to me of a morning is an insult. You really are mean, John Watson."

John grinned and kissed his head again. "I love you. I'll have tea ready, if you like." He left the room and went to start the kettle before making some toast.

"I will like," Sherlock said, covering up again as he stretched. Then he slowly got up, slipping on his dressing gown and joining John in the kitchen. "What time will you be back later?"

"Around four," John said. "It's not too busy on Fridays."

"All right," Sherlock said. "I suppose I will survive being on my own all that time." He looked over and smiled, remembering all the time he spent on his own before John entered his life. "But will you promise to fuss me when you return? I will be rather desperate for your attention by then."

"Don't I always fuss you?" John smiled. "I'll see you soon, okay?" He kissed Sherlock and left for work, deciding to catch a cab since he'd got up a bit late.

Sherlock smiled because, even though John did fuss him, he often wanted more fussing. Perhaps it was something that he'd eventually adjust to and his needs would balance out. Or perhaps it was just a part of his personality that had always existed and was revealing itself in a new way. Regardless, he looked forward to this evening.

He took his tea to the sitting room and flopped down on the sofa, kicking up his feet to rest on the table. When he did, though, his right heel landed on something was caused a sharp pain. He cursed and then sat up to look -- it was a die from John's game. He sat back and thought about the game, reveling in the details of what had happened on this sofa last night.

However, there was also just this little niggling inside him about having the lost the competition. Whether it was a childish desire to win or a hidden insecurity about his newly discovered voracious sexual appetite, Sherlock was filled with an urge to turn the tables and make John be the one to give in. Which would then make Sherlock the champion. 

He stood up from the sofa and moved to the desk, opening his laptop and Googling "sex games."

The day was busier than John would have liked and he was forced to skip lunch in order to still get out early like he'd wanted to. On his way home he picked up some Chinese, very much looking forward to eating. "Sherlock?" he called when he walked in, moving straight to the kitchen to serve his plate. "I brought dinner," he said, wondering where Sherlock was.  

Sherlock slinked out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. "That was kind," he said. "Do I get to eat it or do I have to earn it by going through some kind of challenge?" he picked up his plate and fork and sat down at the table.

John rolled his eyes with a grin. "You can eat it. The game was yesterday and all over now," he said. 

"Easy for you to say," Sherlock said. "Since you weren't left shamed as the loser." He took a bite of food. "In fact, I was thinking . . . perhaps we should have a rematch?"

John tilted his head, raising his brows with intrigue. "The dice again?"

"No," Sherlock said. "I was examining the dice earlier and I'm fairly sure they'd been tampered with. I'd prefer a game I knew was fair."

"They were not tampered with!" John countered. "But that's fine. It's only fair I let you pick a game as well," he said. "What are you thinking?"

"I've already prepared everything in the bedroom. Finish your dinner," Sherlock said.

"I don't even get a hint?" John asked. 

"Did you give me fair warning about your twisted dice game?" Sherlock asked.

"I let you look at them before we actually started playing," John said. 

"Well, I'll let you inspect the equipment before we begin," Sherlock said.

"Equipment?" John asked with a small smile, his brows raising higher. This was going to be very interesting indeed. 

"I've been busy today," Sherlock said slyly.

"Clearly. Care to tell me what you've bought?"

"Finish eating and I'll happily give you a tour," Sherlock said. "And get you to sign the release form."

John laughed now. "Yeah, all right." He finished up and spread his arms out in an inviting way. "Let's go see what you have."

Sherlock pushed his plate to the side. "Hold on," he said. He stood up and got two wine glasses and handed them to John. Then he handed John a bottle of wine he had opened earlier. Then he handed him a small towel. And a spatula. "Come on then," he said, turning to the bedroom but stopping at the door.

"Um . . ." John tried to balance all of these things as he followed Sherlock to their room. "A spatula?"

Sherlock looked at him and said, "No, you're right. Let's not be excessive." He grabbed it and threw it back onto the table before pushing open the door.


	2. Best of Three

The blankets on the bed were pulled back and resting in the middle of the mattress was a big black box. On each of the bed's posts was a bit of rope with a cuff at the end. On the pillow lay a blindfold and Sherlock's riding crop. Sherlock turned and took the bottle and glasses from John. He walked over to the bed and sat down. "Would you like to take a seat?" he asked, pouring wine into each of the glasses. 

John was staring at the cuffs -- at everything on the bed -- with wide eyes. "Sherlock, we've skipped a few steps and gone straight to the pros. What's in the box?"

"Implements," Sherlock said.

"Can I look?" John asked.

"No," Sherlock said. "That's part of the game. The not looking, I mean."

"Oh," John said. "Okay. Where do we start?"

Sherlock handed John a glass. "Have a few sips while we discuss the rules," he said, taking a drink himself. "The premise is the same as last night -- the first to beg for the end loses. All you need to do is lie back and relax. No straining yourself with dice-rolling, just lie back and relax. After a long week of work, you deserve that," he said, smiling cheekily. "If you want to . . . reach orgasm, all you need to do is say 'Sherlock wins'. Of course, if you'd like the game to end for other reasons, just say 'stop.' Either option will be respected, though obviously I'd prefer the first." He took another drink of wine. "Everything's safe and . . . very, very durable so feel free to hold out as long as you can before surrendering." He leaned over and gave John a kiss with wine-wet lips. "Lie down whenever you're ready for the game to begin."

"But I'm the only one getting teased?" John asked, pulling his jumper off. "I feel like this isn't fair at all." He pushed his trousers off and climbed onto the bed, pushing the box out of his way. "How do I win?"

"Have you noticed anything about in the last few months, John?" Sherlock said, setting down his glass and loosening his shirt collar. "I have become . . . well, let's admit it, a bit sex mad." He stretched one of John's arm, cuffing it before moving around the bed, fixing the rest of the cuffs. "I thank you for your confidence that I'll remain totally in control during this game, but I confess I'm not so sure. In fact, I'd be happy to abandon the game and fuck you stupid right now." Once John was totally cuffed, Sherlock said, "Blindfold on or off -- your choice."

"Off, please. If I can't touch, I'd like to be able to see."

Sherlock rolled up his sleeves and cracked his knuckles. He looked down at John. "You look fucking delicious," he said. He sat down on the bed and picked up the box, opening it but not letting John see inside. He took out a bottle of lube and set it on John's belly. He leaned over and sucked John's cock quickly into his mouth. He kept his body to the side so John could watch as he started to bob his head, sucking up and down.

John grinned. He loved when Sherlock started swearing because he'd realised that it was Sherlock's arousal calling card. The hotter he got, the filthier his mouth, and John loved every dirty bit of it. His belly twitched as Sherlock put the lube on him and then a surprised moan escaped his mouth when Sherlock took him into his mouth so soon. Instinctively his made to reach for his head, to touch his hair, but his arms snagged and he sighed loudly, biting his lip as he watched Sherlock moving. 

Sherlock kept sucking John as he dropped a hand to pull lightly on his balls. Sherlock had memorised every reaction of John's to everything he'd ever done to him. He knew what John liked. He was curious to see how John responded to the new things he had planned, but he was confident the response would be positive. He hummed at the taste of John's precome -- partly because he loved it and partly because he knew John was well on the way to losing the game.

"Christ Sherlock, just-just dive right in," John moaned softly, moving his hips since his arms were useless at the moment. But he needed to calm down a bit so he tried to pull his mind to the feeling of the cuffs on his wrists instead of the feeling of Sherlock's mouth on his cock. It was hard -- he couldn't completely ignore it but he sensed this was only the beginning and he needed to get it together.  

Sherlock sat up and then leaned over, giving John a sloppy, wet kiss. He moved down the bed, dragging the box with him. He settled between John's legs and started licking his balls, using his hands to grip John's thighs, separating his legs even more. Then he dropped his tongue down, licking across John's hole before slowly pushing the tip inside. Then he turned his head and started softly biting John's thighs.

"You're pulling out . . . all the stops," John moaned. He pulled at his hands again, looking up at them before trying to look down again. He wondered what would have happened if he'd properly teased Sherlock for losing. He smiled softly, twitching at the small bites. 

Sherlock lifted his head and turned his attention to the box. He took out of it a small, slightly curved vibrator. He set it on John's belly and reached for the bottle of lube which had rolled onto the bed. He held that in one hand, while turning on the vibrator and dragging it softly up and down John -- from his chest to his belly, brushing past his cock and then down to his thigh. "Feel good?" he asked.

John giggled -- an actual giggle -- as the vibrator was dragged along his side. "Tickles," he admitted, trying to squirm away from it. But his cock was getting harder at the thought of where it might go next. 

Sherlock dropped it on the bed between John's legs and then opened the lube. He poured some into his hand and quickly stroked John's cock before picking the vibrator back up and slicking it. He felt the vibrations in his fingers so he turned it off and then dragged it between John's legs, letting the tip rest against John's hole. "Deep breath, please," he said, looking up.

John widened his legs a bit and took a deep breath, biting his lip as he waiting for Sherlock to push. 

Sherlock pushed in just the tip of the vibrator before pulling it back out. Then he pushed in again, going a little further. He kept the rhythm without pushing it all the way in. He leaned over and blew softly on John's slick cock. "I'm hard as a rock, John," he growled. "I could fuck you all night."

John whimpered softly. "Me too. Can't I have more?" he asked. Just the tip was such a tease and he was already leaking on his belly. He was still curious about what else was in the box, but at this rate he'd never get to see them. Well, this time anyways. He doubted this was the last time they would play like this.

"Are you sure?" Sherlock said. "Did you not notice the small curve? It's going to hit your special spot, are you sure you want that?" He pushed it in further, turning it so it brushed past John's prostate before he pulled it back a bit.

"I -- fuck -- maybe not then," he said. But then he wondered if that counted as losing so he shook his head. "It doesn't matter . . . whatever." His attempt to sound casual didn't work at all; his voice was needy and breathy.

Sherlock pushed it in and out again, going far enough to bump his prostate a few times before slowly pulling it out. He set it on the bed and reached into the box again. He pulled out a plug and poured lube on it. "Another deep breath please," he said, pushing it in slowly but firmly until it was fully seated. He looked down as if to admire his work and then up at John's face. "This game has a break in the middle of it," he said, standing up. "I'm going to go into the other room for a little while."

"What? Wait," John said, squirming properly now. "Christ," he breathed. He was full and stretched and it was just there. "Please don't leave."

"Are you surrendering?" Sherlock said, slowly unbuttoning his trousers before stepping out of them.

"I -- don't you want to watch me suffer?" he asked, squeezing the plug and really pulling at his arms now. He needed movement, friction.

Sherlock was stripped naked now and climbed over John on the bed, straddling his chest. "Open your mouth," he said.

John did as he was told for the sole reason that he couldn't surrender with Sherlock's cock in his mouth. And he really wanted Sherlock's cock in his mouth. He was leaking badly now and knew he'd have to give in. Unless he could make Sherlock come right now.  
  
Sherlock slipped his cock slowly into John's mouth, feeling the warm wetness around him. "God, that feels good," he moaned, starting to rock his hips back and forth, occasionally moving a little deeper.

John hummed, again pulling at his hands to try and touch him, to guide him deeper and stroke him. He swirled his tongue and moaned and bucked his hips. The air was unforgiving, and he wished Sherlock would reach back and touch him.

Sherlock pulled back just a bit. "Suck," he said as he reached over and picked up the riding crop. He turned his head a little and reached back to run the end of the crop softly over John's cock. Then he reached a little further and tapped the end of the plug a few times, before moving back to his cock. Then he looked down at John's face, using one of his hands to hold the back of John's head. He started to rock his hips a little faster. "Fuck, John," he said. "I'm going to explode in your mouth."

John moved his head as much as he could from this position, heat and excitement and nerves twisting all together in his belly. The crop -- that was the hottest thing they had ever done and the feel of it on his skin and hitting the plug was driving him crazy. When Sherlock spoke again John tried to nod encouragingly because if Sherlock hit any harder, he was going to explode himself and royally lose the game. But it was so good, so fucking good, that maybe he would lose anyways. It would be a small price to pay. 

Sherlock took a deep breath and then pulled back. He was so close, but any closer would mean losing. And the game would end. Sherlock wasn't sure which one of those was the bigger issue, but he wasn't ready for either. So he pulled back, climbed off John and moved down the bed. He picked up the riding crop again and slid it down John's body before making quick taps on each of John's nipples. He dropped it and leaned over to suck John's cock which was hard and wet and warm. Then he turned his attention to the plug, tapping it a few times before pulling it a bit back and pushing it in again. "Are you ready to give in yet?" he asked.

John sighed when Sherlock pulled away because now he was in control again and there was no way Sherlock would finish before John now. "Oh, fuck," John moaned loudly, squirming to get away from the taps. Not that he wanted to, exactly, but it brought him so very, very close. He seemed to know just how much John needed to be properly teased. When he started pulling at the plug John whimpered again but shook his head. "Not . . . not so easily," he said, as if all of this had been nothing so far. 

"Admirable," Sherlock said, now slowly pulling the plug all the way out and throwing it to the side. He reached for the vibrator again, dribbling some more lube on it before beginning to fuck John with it. "I wish this was my cock," he said, almost in a quiet moan. "I wish I was pushing into you. I love being inside you." With his other hand, he reached over and just held John's cock tightly, the heat of it transferring to his palm. He picked up the pace with the vibrator, letting it hit John's prostate. He looked up at John's face. "God, you're so sexy," he said, this time it came out in an obvious moan. And then he let go of John's cock, moving his hand down to turn on the vibrator. "I want to fuck you, John. Let me."

The emptiness of losing the plug was awful and the vibrator did little to help it. On the other hand the vibrations against his prostate were too much, and John was bucking and squirming off of the bed. "Please! Sherlock please . . . you win, just please," John begged softly, whining and moaning, desperate for release. 

Sherlock pulled the vibrator out and stroked himself a few times before quickly pushing into John. He held onto John's hips, pulling them towards him with each thrust. "Fuck, it feels good," he huffed. "I need you to come, John, tighten around me and make me come. Let me fill you." He reached up and started stroking John's cock, hard and fast.

John hardly made it through the request. He came hard into Sherlock's hand and over his own belly, moaning loudly and calling for Sherlock as he threw his head back in pleasure. He squeezed around Sherlock, trying to keep him inside as wave after wave crashed through him. 

Sherlock's orgasm began the second he felt John's muscles tightening, and he felt himself filling him. He stopped breathing for a moment and then dropped down, letting his hips jerk as they needed to. He felt like he could barely move, but forced himself to slowly pull out, turning to uncuff John's ankles and then wrists before collapsing on the bed next to him. He was still panting but was able to huff out the words "I won."

John huffed out a hard breath -- an attempt at a laugh -- as he was still catching his breath and rubbing his wrists lightly. He'd pulled harder than he realised during his orgasm. "I'm still deciding if you cheated," he teased between his breathing. He turned and pressed into Sherlock's side, grinning like an idiot. 

"Of course I didn't cheat," Sherlock said. "I'm an honorable man." He turned towards John. "Your arms feel okay?" he asked. He reached down and lightly stroked his wrist.

"You're lucky I'm so sweet on you after an orgasm," he murmured. "Yeah, I'm okay. I got a bit over excited," he said, grinning again. 

"Did you . . . like all that? Do you want to sometimes do that kind of stuff . . . not the game I mean . . . the other stuff."

John nodded. "It was very sexy," he smiled. "Did you like it?

"I did," Sherlock said. "Once I got the idea, I was quite keen to try and I was definitely satisfied with the results." He curled a bit round John. "Though I'm exhausted now. Can we rest here for a bit before we get something for you to eat?"

John nodded. "I'm okay from dinner. I don't want to move just yet." He closed his eyes and sighed softly as he started dozing off. "Let's do best two out of three," he murmured.

"I knew you hated losing," Sherlock mumbled. He draped an arm around John and settled down for a nap.

"Shh," John murmured before he fell asleep as well. It was the best he'd ever slept.

Sherlock slept for a while next to John, but woke up before him. He rolled onto his stomach, leaning a bit over John's face, just gazing at it. Then he took his fingertip and drew lightly over John's lips, down to his chin, and over his cheek. He smiled. John didn't wake up. So Sherlock put a finger in John's nose and blew onto his face. "You awake?" he asked. 

John wrinkled his nose and squirmed away, opening his eyes finally and processing the words he was hearing. "No," he said, turning away and pretending to already be asleep again.

"Wake up and play with me," Sherlock said, pulling lightly on John's hair. "I need you . . ." He pinched John's arm softly. "I have a new game and it's really easy -- all you have to do is lie there. I promise. But you have to be awake."

John opened his eyes and turned to face Sherlock. "Another game already?" He smiled.

"Only if you want -- but if you lose, I don't want to hear you complaining that you weren't ready," Sherlock said, smiling. "Are you ready?"

"I won't be the loser this time! I'm ready. I think," John said.

"All right," Sherlock said. He leaned over and gave him a kiss. "May the best man win." He sat up. "The rules are essentially the same. The first one who needs the game to end so he can come gets to come but is deemed the loser, yeah? Now lie back and close your eyes."

John nodded his agreement before lying comfortably on his back and closed his eyes.

Sherlock lay down next to John flat on his back as well, but not close enough to touch. "I'm going to tell you what I'm going to do," he said softly. He closed his eyes as well. "I'm going to roll onto my side and lean in and kiss your mouth. It'll be soft at first, I might touch your cheek, my fingertips might brush past your ear. But then it will get a little harder, rougher. My tongue will push into your mouth and I'll bite you lip a little before kissing you hard again." He didn't move from his position.

"Okay. Now? Should I turn towards you?" John asked.

"No, you stay still," Sherlock said. "You're just going to lie there relaxing. You don't even need to get hard -- that way there's no way you'll lose, right?" Sherlock took a breath. "But just kissing you has made me hard. Ever since we started doing all this, John, I get hard so easily. It feels like I went years without an erection and all we needed was that first kiss and now I can't help it. I'm hard and kissing your mouth. I lean my body against you, pressing against your leg, just trying to get a little pressure. I'm full of urge, John. I want you so much."

John licked his lips and listened to Sherlock talking. "I'm hard too, Sherlock. Kissing you always makes me hard because you taste so good."

"I feel you against me," Sherlock said, his breath picking up a little. "I slide my hand down your body and hold you -- just hold you, no movement. Yet. You're hot in my hand. I drop my head and suck on your neck, leaving red marks, before I dip down on suck on your nipple. My hand's still not moving but my hips are, rutting against your leg."

"You know I love your mouth on my neck," John said softly. "I want to hold you too. I want to feel your heat and weight in my hand too." John slid his hand to his thigh but didn't touch himself yet. It was a game after all.

"There's time, John, but let me . . . let me make you feel good," Sherlock said. "I love that." And he realised he did -- he loved making John feel good in every way, but especially this way because it was all theirs and theirs alone. "I'm going to kiss your mouth again and then down again -- your neck, your chest, your belly and then your cock. I'm going to cover you with my mouth and then suck you inside." 

John bit his lip and huffed softly. "Can't you show me? And I'll show you?"

"That's not the game today, John," Sherlock whispered. "The game is I _tell_ you. So I'm telling you. I'm telling you how I'm holding your cock at the base while I suck on the tip, moving my tongue around and then up and down it. How I suck on the tip before I move it further into my mouth and into my throat as my other hand holds your balls, pulling them lightly. You look down and watch yourself disappearing into my mouth. You reach down and touch my hair, John, you lift your hips and push in further."

John squeezed his eyes shut to try and picture it as clearly as possible because God he wanted it badly. "Sherlock," John moaned softly, his fingers itching to touch himself. But he didn't know if that was allowed. "I love your mouth on me. Hot and wet and yes I will grab your hair, and I will push up lightly, because I always want so much more of you. You're always so good."

Sherlock sensed the tension in John's hands. "You can touch if you want but touching, I've noticed, leads to coming and coming ends the game," he whispered. "Just let me do the touching. I'm going to use my hand now instead. My mouth moves to your thighs, biting the skin. It's so soft there and warm. And I spread my tongue over your balls. They're tight and beneath them . . . I slip my tongue beneath them and press into you. It's soft, my tongue is soft, opening you this way." Sherlock's voice was slow and husky. His pulse had sped up and his cock was hard. He tried to stay in the picture in his mind so he wasn't tempted to touch himself.

John slid his hand down, passed his cock, and gently pressed the tip of his finger into himself. He imagined Sherlock's tongue and he moaned softly. "It feels good . . . you feel good."

"I love to make you feel good," Sherlock said. He swallowed before continuing. "I keep pressing in with my tongue, stroking your cock, squeezing your thigh. I want to be everywhere John, I want to be inside you and over you -- everywhere. I want to make it hard for you to breathe, you're overwhelmed by it all. I need to kiss your mouth. I move up and kiss your mouth hard, smothering your mouth with mine and I press two fingers inside. Move your hips, John, move my fingers."

John whined softly and pulled his hand away, turning into his side to face Sherlock. "Please . . please can we call it a draw?" he mumbled.

"Is this a trick?"

"No. I just need . . . don't you?" John scooted a bit closer to him. "Don't you want to kiss me? To feel me touching you? Stroking you? Sucking?"

"Yes, I want that," Sherlock said, sitting up and moving over John. He started where the story had started, kissing his mouth tenderly and then more urgently, his hand slipping down to hold John's cock. "I want to make you feel good, I want everything."  
  
John moaned into the kiss and shifted to hold Sherlock's cock, keeping his hand still like Sherlock had described in the story. "I want everything as well. I want it from you, Sherlock. I want us to feel amazing together."

Sherlock bit John's bottom lip softly, pulling it between his teeth, before moving to suck hard on his neck. He dropped down to suck John's nipple, nuzzling it with his lips first and then his teeth. His hand started to move slowly on John's cock.

John was squirming with need, worked up from all the talking they had done. "God Sherlock," he moaned.

"I could fuck you right now," Sherlock growled. "But I won't yet." He dropped down quickly and moved his tongue around John's balls and then pushed it inside him. He moved it in and out, waiting for John's reaction.

John called out in surprise and moaned Sherlock's name loudly. "Fuck Sherlock . . . please."

That seemed to be a good response. Sherlock pushed his tongue a little harder and further, gripping John's thighs, pulling his legs further apart. Then he lifted his head and said, "Are you ready?" He reached for the lube and stretched to grab the vibrator as well.

"Yes, God, I have been since you started talking!" John called. He pulled his legs back and lifted to watch Sherlock. He didn't care about the game. He needed Sherlock badly, he was leaking on his own belly just at the thought of it.

Sherlock poured some lube into his hand and stroked himself. He was achingly hard. He pushed John's legs apart and slowly pressed into him. He did it as slowly as possible -- it was torturous but so good. He pushed all the way in and then stilled. He dropped down and kissed John hard on the mouth. "Tell me you love me," he said.

John groaned impatiently but he loved it, loved when Sherlock played with him. "I love you," he said, squirming to get something from the fullness. "I love you and your cock and your hands and your hair --" John paused and buried both hands into his curls. "-- and you again."

Sherlock sucked hard on John's neck, pressing his teeth against the skin. "Should I fuck you now?" he asked.

"Yes, please, please fuck me," John said, trying to move his own hips now to start it.

Sherlock started to thrust into John. It felt so good he was worried he'd actually explode. "Touch yourself," he commanded to John before pushing up onto one arm, grabbing the vibrator and turning it on. He pressed it between John's legs. He could feel the vibrations himself and suddenly it seemed like the whole room was vibrating, the whole flat was a part of this. "John, I can't --" he tried to say but then he was groaning loudly as he came hard into John.

John moved to comply, stroking himself quickly. When Sherlock added the vibrator he called out and came almost instantly, all over himself and Sherlock with the intensity of it. He slumped against the bed, still twitching lightly with his post orgasm.

Sherlock panted John's name, dropping his head onto John's chest. Then he lifted up again and slowly moved from John's body and flopped next to him. "No more games, John . . . one or both of us is going to end up dead." He reached over and grabbed John's hand.

John chuckled breathlessly and nodded. "Yes, I agree," he murmured between his breathing. "We're even now."

Sherlock looked over. They'd only been doing having sex for a short time -- it was still so new. But it was amazing. "Good," he said softly. "Everything is good. We're even."

They lay there quietly, each unaware of the fact that both of their minds were already working to come up with the next game.


End file.
